


Push It to the Limit

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:10:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is happy enough to take over as Allison's babysitter when Lydia falls sick. He just never expected Mr and Mrs Argent to take such an active part in making him feel welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push It to the Limit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuluoliang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuluoliang/gifts).



> This was prompted by amazing fuluoliang over on Twitter and encouraged by the wonderful anatsuno and heardtheowl. Thank you! This is because the Argents are just the type of paranoid parents who would video their babysitter just in case.

Everyone knew the Argents. They’d moved into town a few years ago. But until now, Stiles hadn’t really had anything to do with the Argent family. He ran the doorbell and contemplated fleeing, rather intimidated by the rather fancy stained glass in the front the door. But he didn’t. He sucked it up. He needed the cash and Lydia had made him promise to be the best babysitter ever. And he was kinda more afraid of her than the Argents. Just a little. The door opened. Then Stiles looked down to see his charge for the evening looking at him suspiciously.

“You’re not Lydia.” Brilliant start. Auspicious. 

“Hi, I’m Stiles. Lydia isn’t very well and she said you needed a friend for the evening.” Stiles knelt down so he was at the kid’s height. Allison, Lydia had informed him through her stuffed nose, liked being treated like a grown up. And Stiles hated not being able to look someone in the eyes, even if they were eight.

“Did she tell you about the cookies?” Allison had really penetrating brown eyes. They kinda reminded Stiles of Scott’s – the kid he normally babysat for – and he’d spent a lot of time learning how to become immune to that blend of puppy dog pleading. Mostly immune. Okay. To the point.

“Lydia told me that we should have fun, do some colouring, have cookies and, well, she said I was allowed to make my special hot chocolate for you. Then some story time.” Stiles watched carefully as the girl assessed him some more. Then she nodded.

“Mom! Dad! You can go! Stiles is here!” She certainly knew how to yell.

Stiles scrambled back to his feet as Mr and Mrs Argent came to the door. He shook Mr Argent’s hand, trying not to notice his strong grip, long fingers, his attractive eyes or anything else that would cause Stiles to, you know, react like a seventeen year old. Mrs Argent was hot in this really dangerous way too. And those were not thoughts he needed to be having while he was being shown the emergency numbers and the kitchen.

Then he put it all out of his mind to make some awesome 3D snowflakes and colour in ponies. He was the best babysitter ever.

 

Allison was out like a light at nine on the dot. That impressed Stiles. He normally had to chase Scott around for what seemed like an eternity before he crashed. But Allison had actually wanted to go to bed. She had been really complimentary about the whole hot chocolate thing too, actually declaring it almost as good as Lydia’s milk which made Stiles do a little dance of joy and made Allison giggle snort. But he’d been so used to the whole evening being taken up with little people fun that he hadn’t brought anything to keep himself occupied while he waited. And it was going to be a few more hours at least. Mrs Argent had made noises about midnight.

He wandered the house, tidying up for a bit, hanging up Allison’s snowflakes off the corner of the kitchen cabinet, which looked cool. Then he washed the pan and mugs by hand rather than leaving them in the dishwasher. Then he floated through to the family room. His phone provided a few minutes of diversion. Finally he gave in and turned on the TV. He kept it down low – didn’t want to wake Allison – and started channel hopping.

 

Stiles knew he was going to hell. He knew because he was in the house of people who were going to kill him when they got home and realised he had found their porn channels. And that he was watching them. And that their taste in porn was something he found absolutely fascinating. Fuck. Hell. 

He was hard. He was beyond hard. If he had any blood left in the rest of his body he would be surprised. He hadn’t even done much beyond stop and watch and maybe ghost his hand over the outside of his pants. He’d turned the sound right down until all he could hear was the odd gasp and slap of wet skin as guys fucked girls and girls fucked guys and guys fucked both girls and guys and it was so much better on the TV than in a tiny three by four screen on his laptop. Stiles glanced up at the clock. He had another two hours at least until Mr and Mrs Argent came home.

He rubbed more urgently at the hard line of his cock in his pants. His other hand scraped across his chest, fingernail catching his nipple under the thin material of his t-shirt. Stiles bit his lip to muffle any sound. Damn. He couldn’t risk Allison coming down the stairs and finding him all hard and needy and strung out. There was only one solution…

Stiles knew he was totally justifying it to himself as he lowered his zipper, the harsh sound echoing loudly in the quiet house. But his cock wouldn’t wait anymore. He licked a messy stripe up his palm and pulled himself out of his boxers, stroking hard and fast as he watched a guy get fucked as he ate out a girl. A redhead. Who looked kinda like Mrs Argent. And Stiles slapped his free hand over his mouth as he imagined himself in the middle, Mr Argent breaking him apart as he told Stiles exactly where to lick. 

His orgasm punched through him, left him breathless and panting as he idly trailed his fingers through the come on his belly, lifting his hand to his mouth to clean it off.

 

He couldn’t look the Argents in the eyes when they came home. He took his money and waved and promised he’d sub in for Allison any time Lydia wasn’t available.

***

“Check the cameras while I lock up?” Chris waved off the Stilinski kid. He was a little strange but Allison was fast asleep in bed, the house was in one piece and there was no evidence of any smoke or booze. It felt like Lydia had been right to recommend Stiles after all. Victoria kissed him, hard and demanding. It looked like he needed to hurry up.

She was staring at the laptop when he finally closed the door to their bedroom. “Anything untoward?”

“Not… exactly,” she said, voice a little shaky. She was turned on. Chris unbuttoned his shirt, letting it hand loose around his chest as he came to see what she was looking at. “He found the porn.”

“On the cable? We need to get that child lock sorted out.” Chris wondered why Victoria wasn’t angrier. Then he caught a glimpse of the screen. The kid was sprawled on the cushions, one hand in his mouth and the other jacking himself hard. The black and white of the video made it hard to see what he was watching on the screen but there were definitely multiple bodies involved. His t-shirt had rucked up, exposing a soft trail of hair, abs that weren’t any more than a suggestion, narrow hips. Chris could imagine himself swallowing that cock down, making the boy come. From the way Victoria was flicking her eyes between him and the screen, it looked like she was having much the same thoughts.

The kid didn’t take long to come, arching his back and rolling his hips in the air. Chris let his hand trail down to press against his cock. And when Stiles licked his own come from his fingers, he let out a low growl.

“You’d let me watch, right? When you fucked him?” Victoria’s words were dripped into his ear as she helped him undress the rest of the way. They left the footage play as they fucked, both imagining Stiles in the middle. It had been too long since they’d played around with someone else. “We should ask him,” she said, and Chris pressed into her hard and came. His wife knew him all too well.

***

Stiles was more than happy to get a call asking if he’d sit for Allison two weeks later. She’d been fun and kinda easy to look after. She wasn’t a demanding spoiled brat like that Whittemore kid. Stiles was never taking another booking for him – Lydia could keep him. He also had a moment of remembering exactly what he’d gotten up to on the Argent’s sofa but reckoned that if they’d found out, he would never ever have been asked back. 

He did remember his backpack. He had homework. Lots of homework. Which explained why he waited a good hour after Allison had settled off to sleep before he flicked the TV on and turned the sound way down low. He had to flick beyond the station he’d first found to find something that really turned him on. And, boy, did it turn him on.

An older man, a younger guy. And a woman who was probably in between them. They were only kissing, the young guy in between them, but Stiles was already putting himself in the guy’s place. And his imagination was making no attempts to disguise who else was filling out the threesome: Mr and Mrs Argent. Stiles tried to replace their names with Victoria and Chris but there was something delicious and wrong and dirty about calling them Mr and Mrs. He had his eyes half shut, barely focused on the action onscreen when he became aware that someone was standing behind him.

His first thought was “oh shit, Allison!” and when he turned and the kid wasn’t there, he relaxed. Stupidly. Because Mr and Mrs Argent were standing there and he was going to be killed. His body would never be found. His dad would eat all the junk food all the time. He was going straight to hell.

“So, Stiles.” Mrs Argent didn’t seem that pissed off. She sounded kinda amused. Or something. Stiles scrambled up off the sofa, slapping at the remote until the porn went off. He knew he was bright red and he – yup, oh fuck – still had his pants open. His dick hadn’t got the message about the need to stop right now. Stiles looked back up in panic.

Mr Argent licked his lips. There was something in his eyes that made Stiles feel a little less uncomfortable and a little more curious. Something was definitely happening here. Mrs Argent shifted closer, dumping her coat over the back of the sofa and coming to stand closer to Stiles. He could smell her perfume. His dick gave a twitch. Then Mr Argent was crossing the space between them, muttering something under his breath.

“This okay?” His hand cupped Stiles’s cheek. Stiles nodded, feeling the callouses on Mr Argent’s hands rough against his skin. It sent shivers down his back. He could imagine those hands all over him, jacking his dick, grabbing his ass. Stiles wasn’t aware he was licking his lips until Mr Argent’s mouth closed over his and it was all wet and slick and hot and fucking amazing. Fuck. Mrs Argent pressed up against his back, softly at first then more firmly as Stiles didn’t run away. He couldn’t have run away. All his brain power (what was left. Most of the blood in his body seemed to be concentrated in his dick after all) was basically taken up with cataloguing every movement, every sensation. Stiles couldn’t believe this was really happening to him.

“S’good.” Stiles gasped when Mr Argent let up, kissing along his cheek, tongue dipping out to taste the junction of his neck and jaw. Then Mrs Argent was using her perfectly manicured hand to bring Stiles around to kiss her, lipstick slick and sharp after Mr Argent’s mouth. Stiles didn’t mind. An image of her perfectly made up mouth messy and red around his dick sprung into his mind. He might have moaned a “Yes” into her mouth. Mr Argent’s hands and mouth continued to drive him a little bit crazy too.

Stiles also might have let out a sound that could be described as a whimper - or as a meep – when they pulled back. He didn’t care. He just didn’t want them to stop.

Mrs Argent came close, running her hands down the front of his t-shirt, flicking his overshirt out of the way. Her hand came to a stop low on his belly. “We want to take you to bed, Stiles.”

“Yes.” The word was out almost before she’d stopped speaking. He nodded eagerly too, just in case they hadn’t got the message. Mr Argent grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Stiles want to run his fingertips over that, kiss that smile which was tending towards wicked and promising. He wanted everything.

“I want to watch Chris fuck you. Would you like that?” Mrs Argent seemed to be speaking a little bit to her husband. Stiles watched them both, head going back and forward like at some kind of ball game. Heh. Balls. Mrs Argent let her fingertips drop below the waistband of his exposed boxers then. And Stiles was hyperfocused on her. “I’d open you up, get you dripping and wet and ready.” She was still speaking to Mr Argent but Stiles didn’t care.

“Anything,” he gasped, as she wrapped her hand around his dick, finally. “Yes. Now. Please?” The last was close to begging. It seemed as if Mr Argent had endured enough teasing too because he grabbed at his wife, pulling her into a kiss that was dirty and messy. Mrs Argent’s hand never stopped working on Stiles’s dick though and he appreciated that kind of multi-tasking. “Bedroom?” he asked, when neither seemed inclined to stop anytime soon. He was soon pinned with two pairs of very shrewd and very calculating eyes.

In the end, it was Mrs Argent who led the way.

***

Victoria kissed him and he could taste Stiles and it made his head spin. They’d played around when they’d been younger, back before Allison. And sometimes they hit up clubs. But this was somehow more real. It was in their house, in their bedroom. It was Allison’s babysitter, for crying out loud. Chris wondered what it was about this kid that made him squirm, made him want. It had to be more than the fact they’d caught him jerking off to porn on their sofa.

Stiles let out a soft moan at the sight of them kissing and Chris caught the want and eagerness in every iota of Stiles’s being. He wanted this, leaning forward to see everything. He was so damn young and yet the blown out pupils, the way he kept licking his pink, soft, wet lips like he wanted to taste everything too made Chris feel less guilt and much more lust. Fuck it all.

He reeled Stiles in, putting him in between Victoria and himself. They exchanged a glance and then it was time to begin in earnest. Chris kept kissing, mouthing at Stiles’s neck, as he unbuttoned sleeves and tugged shirts out of the way. Victoria knelt, pulled off Stiles’s shoes and socks and pants and Chris swallowed Stiles’s eager, “Yes, yes yes” as Victoria swallowed his cock, pulling off with a pop. Chris had to step back, press a palm to his own cock as Victoria kissed her way up the sparse dark treasure trail, ran her red nails over Stiles’s chest before kissing him, letting him taste his own cock. Chris knew where those nails were going to go and it made him groan almost involuntarily. 

There was a moment where Chris was prepared to just pull off his own clothes, strip and slick up his own cock, rub off against Stiles. But he swallowed and waited. Victoria would know how he felt and she wouldn’t make him wait much longer. She’d teased him all night, promising that if they found Stiles in a comprising position they’d compromise him further. He’d almost either begged her to stop or asked permission to go jerk off in the hotel’s restrooms. It had taken iron will to let her pull him closer and closer to the edge, to the breaking point. He settled for looking evenly at Victoria. She would know what he was asking. 

“Why don’t you undress Chris, Stiles?” That was unexpected, but not unwelcome. The boy crossed the floor to him, cock bobbing and already slicker at the tip. He hesitated for a moment – not through trepidation but through inexperience, Chris reckoned. Stiles didn’t know where to start. Then he went for Chris’s suit coat, his tie, his buttons. Stiles didn’t care to tease, fast, hurried and clumsy. His hands danced around Chris’s waist, butterfly like, unsure. Then he went for Chris’s zipper like a pro, crouching to pull off shoes and tangling the pants in them. Chris had to roll his hands into fists to stop himself grabbing at Stiles’s sparse hair. Victoria grinned wickedly as she unzipped, tossing her dress onto the floor beside the closet door and lounging back in the chair at her dresser, clad only in underwear, watching.

Stiles stood up after he managed to complete Chris’s disrobing, looking between them. His cock was still hard though. “What now?”

“On the bed.” Victoria pushed herself up as Stiles scooted up the coverlet, lying back slowly, keeping them both in his sights. Chris lay down on one side and Victoria settled on the other. “You can touch him.” That instruction was for Chris but Stiles obeyed too, stroking his hands up Chris’s side, a little too hard, too uncertain. Chris had none of his qualms, one palm stroking up Stiles’s cock and the other pulling him close, mouth angled for another kiss. They traded kisses that became more and more intense, deeper, as Victoria shifted against Stiles’s back, stroking and petting and murmuring praise.

She pulled Stiles towards her and gestured towards the bathroom. It was with reluctance that Chris went to fetch lube and condoms, leaving the sight of Victoria kissing her way across Stiles’s collarbone, up his neck, hands working down his slim torso, bringing his hands to her breasts, letting him stroke and feel and then kiss. There was a hint of jealousy in his disinclination to leave but there was also envy. He wanted to be participating. But he also knew that if he didn’t hurry up, Victoria might revoke her permission.

***

Stiles knew why Mr Argent was heading into the bathroom. For lube. To fuck him with. And that was fine and good but right now he had his nose basically buried in Mrs Argent’s cleavage. He was having difficulty really processing anything beyond yes and more and yes and now. He sucked an erect nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and Mrs Argent let out a soft sound that seemed to go right to Stiles’s cock. It was hard to think this was going to be able to get any better.

The bed shifted as Mr Argent came back and lay down again. Stiles felt his hands skimming down his back, over his ass and he felt the small foil packet Mr Argent had trapped between his fingers. Stiles had to pull back and remember how to breathe. Again. Then he was being guided back against Mr Argent’s chest.

“What.. what do I do?” Stiles bit down on the urge to ask, “Am I doing okay?” and watched Mrs Argent eye him up and down. She sat back and stared at him – at both of them – for a moment.

“Are you still okay, Stiles? Do you still want to do this?” Mrs Argent had her hands flat on her thighs, fingers flexing slightly. The bottle of lube lay against her leg (why did a married couple need lube? Oh shit. Mrs Argent probably fucked Mr Argent with a strap on. And if this was more than a one time thing, that would be so hot to watch. And it was already hot enough to basically blow his mind forever) and Stiles had to swallow before he could answer.

“Yes. And yes. Please?” He was a second from full out begging when Mrs Argent gave a nod and moved her hands, stroking up his legs and then lifting them. Mr Argent hooked his hands under Stiles’s thighs and he was basically wide open, exposed and vulnerable. He had to press back against Mr Argent as Mrs Argent dropped low, kissing and mouthing at his cock and his balls and – Christ! – no one had ever done that before. Why had no one tried that? Fuck, it felt good, all soft and warm and totally distracting him from the fact there was a wet finger circling his hole. 

Mrs Argent went slow as she eased a finger in. It burned, a little. Stiles hadn’t fingered himself in a while – lack of opportunity more than anything. But with the lube and the fact he was so turned on that he was basically going to explode, he soon relaxed into it, hips shifting, riding her hand. Two, three, a full on press against his prostate and Stiles was within a hair’s breadth of coming right the hell now. Mrs Argent seemed to get it, or, perhaps, she was ready to see Stiles being fucked like some live action porn. He was okay with that. She withdrew her fingers slowly then crawled over to the edge of the huge bed, sprawling along the foot and smiling this smile that looked just like a really smug cat. Who had not only got all the cream but the canary, parrot and fucking tuna mountain too.

Mr Argent let go of Stiles’s legs and there was a moment while they just sat there, nothing happening, while Mrs Argent looked at them both. “Hands and knees, Stiles,” she ordered. He didn’t even wait to consider it, falling forward, ass up, ready. He was trembling all over, small shivers that combined to feel like an earthquake. Mr Argent skimmed his hands over Stiles’s ass for a moment before he moved and then there was the blunt press of a cock at his hole. He resisted the urge to shove back and let Mr Argent ease in, make a space for himself, drive Stiles wild.

It felt…so damn fucking good. It was as if all the air in Stiles’s lungs had been pushed out, the stretch, the warmth, the way he felt so full. But he knew that couldn’t be true as he could hear the whimpers, the moans, the slutty, eager, wanting encouragement that spilled from his lips. Mrs Argent moved, coming to kiss him, shut him up, as Mr Argent lost whatever was holding him back and rolled into Stiles, fucking him with long, hard strokes. They weren’t making much noise – not compared to him. Mr Argent let out breaths that were harsh and rasping, totally in keeping with the way his hands felt holding on to Stiles’s hip, calloused and rough. Or even the way his stubble felt when he bent to mouth at the nape of Stiles’s neck, to bite at it.

Then it was all too much. Stiles could feel his orgasm building, this fire filling his veins. He gasped into Mrs Argent’s mouth, tried to warn, tried to say anything. Instead a hand wrapped around his dick and told him he could come. Stiles couldn’t have told anyone who gave the command but he obeyed, spilling hard and fast and long over those clever fingers. He felt Mr Argent stiffen above him and thrust in as deep as he could go. Then Stiles collapsed bonelessly to the sheets, unable to hold himself up anymore.

***

Chris eased back to the bathroom to get rid of the condom, to wipe his cock down and to bring a washcloth out. Victoria would take care of clean up, would bring Stiles out of his stupor. They’d taken it close to a scene, what with the commands and the instructions that didn’t give much wiggle room. It was hard to say why Chris felt uncomfortable again. It wasn’t like he hadn’t enjoyed it, losing himself in putting on a good show. He could feel the bone deep satisfaction that came from a good fuck and from being a good sub. He just felt… discontent.

“Thank you,” Victoria said, almost absently, as she took the warm cloth and wiped the come from Stiles’s belly. Stiles was smiling, eyes flickering vaguely between them, still spaced out from his orgasm. Chris grinned at that. He knew how that felt. It only felt natural to scrub a hand over Stiles’s hair. Victoria paused in her ministrations and looked at him sharply. She was calculating, worrying away at something as she eased Stiles into one of Chris’s t-shirts and his own boxers. Then she tucked Stiles into bed.

“I should call my dad,” Stiles murmured, half asleep already. Chris fetched the phone from Stiles’s pants, slipping into his own boxers as he passed. Victoria had taken off her bra and Stiles’s eyes followed the curve of her breasts rather than paying attention to the offered cell until Chris dropped it onto his chest.

Victoria pushed the hair out of her face and smiled down at Stiles. It wasn’t maternal in the slightest. It was almost shark-like, predatory. She liked Stiles. And apparently she wanted to push it a little further. “Why don’t you just stay here?”

“I can? You’d let me?” Stiles sounded as if the idea had never occurred to him before nodding, a little frantically. He punched out a quick text before tossing his phone off the edge of the bed. “I’d like that. More, um, too.” Stiles looked to him too, asking something else.

The unease that Chris had been feeling seemed to melt. “Yeah. More. Later.” He slipped between the sheets and felt Stiles wind around him. This felt like more than playing around, more than a guy or a girl in a club who knew what they were doing. This felt like the start of something entirely more dangerous and entirely more genuine.

Victoria flicked off the light.


End file.
